


Chasing the Stag

by Lintalome



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Erotica, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintalome/pseuds/Lintalome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elusive presence haunts Celegorm on his solitary hunting trip and lures him from his path into a mystery-ridden chase. It remains unclear yet, if the son of Fëanor is hunter or prey… (Silmarillion-verse, set many years before the Dagor Bragollach. Rating not necessarily for all chapters, but for some explicit parts.)</p>
<p><b>Story is currently put on hold!</b> It will be continued, maybe even in the near future, but I can’t promise. There might also be some edits, I’m not sure yet. If, they will mostly concern Chapter 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rituals of Many Years

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sullhach as a very belated Birthday and Christmas present. It grew into far more than the planned one shot, I hope this makes up for the long delay.
> 
> **Beta:** Beruthiels_Cat. Thank you for all your help and for pointing me in the right direction so I could stay on top of things instead of completely losing track.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters and settings of Middle-earth belong to Tolkien and/or his estate; I’m just borrowing them and make no profit.
> 
> Thank you Spiced Wine and Earille for choosing the "Not That There's Anything Wrong with That" token (The most unlikely slash pairing that actually _works_.) for "Chasing the Stag" as part of the Silmarillion Writers Guild 5th Birthday.
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> _Original artwork by Morphera_  
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~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Brother.” Celegorm approached Curufin, who sat at the worktable in his forge, deeply immersed in adorning a new dagger he had forged with intricate engravings. Curufin did not bother to take his eyes from his work at his brother’s approach, nor did he still his busy hands, yet the almost inaudible sound issuing from his lips – something between a mumbled greeting and a sigh – told Celegorm his brother was paying attention.

“Winter hath been bitter this year,” Celegorm spoke, after thoughtfully watching his brother for a while. “Yet finally spring hath reached the cold plains of our land, winter’s chill yielding to gentle warmth. The land is coming alive again, lush green sprouting from the earth, nourished by Anor’s warming rays.”

“I have noticed,” was Curufin’s clipped reply, his brow furrowing while he focussed on a particularly complicated section of his work.

“Many of our people have become restless these last weeks,” Celegorm said, exhaling slowly as he watched his brother skilfully wield the small tool, engraving another twining, fine line into the crossguard of the blade.

“So hast thou, brother.” Curufin answered, brushing away a wayward strand of hair as he scrutinized the fruits of his labour.

“Yes, so have I.” A small smile played across Celegorm’s features. He had rarely seen Curufin these last weeks, his younger sibling locking himself away in the forge for long hours, as had been their father’s habit; yet his brother always knew his heart.

The hard winters in Himlad never affected his brother as they did himself. The long months of forced inactivity, during which their people huddled together in and around the fortress to escape the merciless hold winter had on the land, made Celegorm feel weary and caged. Curufin used the leisure time to withdraw to the forges and indulge in his craft, alone or in company of his son Celebrimbor. Celegorm did not begrudge them their closeness; rather, he was happy for them as their relationship was not always so amicable. Yet during the stillness of winter, when life seemed not so heavily shadowed by the constant threat that lurked in the North, the shared love for their smithcraft brought Curufin and his son closer.

Sometimes he joined them in the forge, working on some small, random pieces himself whilst listening to Celebrimbor’s excited chatter; smiling at the youth’s gleaming eyes when Curufin taught his son the secrets of wrought-iron work. Even though he himself had been tutored in the art of smithing as befitted a son of Fëanor, Celegorm’s genius had never fully turned to it; his heart was called to the hunt. These last weeks had brought an ever-increasing restlessness, he could scent the approaching spring in the air even before the first hue of green kissed the plains of their land. The soul of the hunter had awakened with the earth, yearning to break free from the confines of their fortress and roam freely.

Unlike him, Curufin never looked forward to the time when the land stirred again. At this time of year, he always fell into brooding, busily trying to accomplish all he had begun before he would have to turn his main attention back to the duty of defending their land and people against Morgoth’s evil spawn. The receding winter brought back the danger of orc raids…or even worse. Patrols would be increased, more men and more frequency, and they would spend the greater share of the warmer months securing their borders.

“I suppose thou wilt be out on thy first hunt soon,” Curufin observed dryly, without lifting his gaze from the dagger; pulling Celegorm from his musings. Their exchange was a private familiarity, a ritual of many years.

“I will set out a week hence,” Celegorm answered with a wry smile, falling easily into their long studied protocol. “I will not be long. Certainly the first messengers of our brethren will arrive soon, bearing news. We shall send out our own messengers before I depart.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” Picking up a soft cloth, Curufin absentmindedly polished the blade in his hands, then put both aside. “How many wilt thou take with thee? There will not be much game yet and the little thou and thy fellow hunters can track down will all be skin and bone.”

“It is not about the capture. The hounds need exercise; they have grown restless and aggressive through the winter. I will only take a dozen huntsmen and their dogs, and Huan of course,” Celegorm replied. “As thou knowest, our patrols reported that one of our southern outposts needs mending, thus I will go and assess the damage winter hath done. After, I will break with my hunters and Huan and I will venture further south alone.”

At this last remark, Curufin’s head finally shot up, his gaze boring into his brother’s intensely and not without anger. “Thou art a fool to venture so close to the Sindar borders. Those _Moriquendi_ ,” Curufin spat, “do _not_ love the Noldor. They especially bear ill will to us of the House of Fëanor.” Picking up the cloth and dagger again, Curufin resumed polishing the metal with frantic movements. “What seekest thou there, brother, year after year?”

“Solitude…and solace. The same things thou seekest when thou lockest thyself away in the forge…just as father did,” Celegorm hissed, repressing the urge to strike his brother for arguing his decision every year. “The sparse forests of Himlad cannot quench what I yearn for. Yet the woodland solitude further south…”

“…cannot either. Thou art chasing a dream,” Curufin interrupted sharply. “Thou returnest every year, thy thirst for what thou seekest unquenched. _Nothing_ in Middle-earth will assuage thy craving. No forest here can compare to Oromë’s Forest…” Curufin snapped, but bit back the last of his reply. Pressing his lips into a narrow line, he turned to polishing the dagger again.

Turning on his heel, Celegorm strode from the forge; his face vivid with rage. Though they had the same discussion each year, Curufin had never before gone so far as throwing in his face what he fiercely denied acknowledging. Oromë’s Forest was forever lost to him. Only memories remained of the haven he had loved so dearly; and no place in Middle-earth could soothe the pain of his loss, nor could any person.

 

*~*~*

 

Celegorm spent the days before his departure in preparations for the hunt, yet his practiced routine did nothing to cool his anger. He rarely crossed paths with his brother, preferring to take his meals alone in his chambers and spending the rest of the day outside the fortress. On the sole occasion they had to talk with one another before giving their orders to the messengers that would set forth to their brethren, they met with cold indifference; speaking only as necessary before parting once more.

Much to Celegorm’s surprise, his brother waited outside his chambers the morning the hunters were to set out. Curufin slid a small bundle wrapped in velvet into his palm then strode away without speaking. Celegorm almost voiced his anger at his brother’s stubbornness with curses, but then thought better of it and merely shook his head. Like himself and all their brethren, save the eldest two, Curufin had a sharp tongue and often spoke harshly. Also like _all_ his brothers…and their father, he would never apologize for something he had said. Celegorm knew this gift was Curufin’s way of telling him he was sorry, but he would not look at it yet; his ire toward his brother still smouldering within his heart. So he tucked the bundle into his pack and made his way to the courtyard.

They set out on horseback, both their mounts and the hounds difficult to restrain in their eagerness; as full of joyful anticipation as their masters. They allowed the beasts free rein, dashing across the plains in a wild gallop while the horde of baying hounds chased after and about them. Long, loose hair whipping in the wind like a banner, Celegorm rode ahead; his mood lifting as he deeply inhaled the fresh fragrance of spring; green grass, damp earth; the newly awakened promise of bud and leaf. In the days following, they spent the nights beneath the stars sitting around the fire drinking mulled wine, singing hunting songs and telling tales before they broke camp at dawn after resting an hour or two if they felt the need.

When they finally reached the outpost, the wardens greeted them with much joy; having lived almost completely isolated for months. Yet a couple of weeks watch duty remained before they would return home. Letters from the men’s families were delivered, as were all manner of news and gossip. The supply of wine, bread and fresh cheese the hunters brought was a welcome addition to the bland and ordinary food to which the wardens had become accustomed. Celegorm and his fellows had even brought small game found along their way for the evening meal, a brace of rabbits which soon roasted above the fire.

Celegorm spent most of the following days inspecting the outpost in the company of the captain of the watch. The man had dutifully listed winter damage sustained by the facility and the material required to repair it; necessary supplies and equipment were neatly listed as well; Celegorm found nothing to add. He looked up the regular reports of the last months in the captain’s record book and was satisfied to find there had been no incidents at their border that indicated any threat. It pleased him that the captain had not become lax during the monotonous months of winter. Though the danger of an attack during the worst of the deep cold seemed small and was more likely from Morgoth’s stronghold in the North, one could never know in such dark times.

A week after their arrival at the outpost, Celegorm sat outside by the night’s campfire, lazily patting Huan’s head as he lay curled up beside him. He was restless, yearning for the peace of dense, ancient forests to ease his bitterness and lift the shadow that weighed on his soul. Curufin’s words emerged from his memory, bringing back the pain of loss and with it renewed anger; not at his brother, but at himself. Curufin had merely put the sorrow he felt in words and spoken them aloud. Celegorm knew his sibling had done so to keep him from tormenting himself with fruitless attempts to replace what was lost to him, yet he was sure his brother also knew he could not relinquish his restless search.

His hand sought for the pack beside him and he took out the small bundle he had refused to open since his departure from the fortress. Carefully, he loosened the string and unwrapped the velvet to reveal a plain, brown leather sheath with a finely crafted dagger; the one Curufin had been working on as they argued. He unsheathed it and gazed in awe at the blade, the elaborate adornments vivid in the flickering light of the fire. On each side of the dagger, the engraved head of a stag graced the centre of the crossguard; proud antlers extending across the quillons and morphing into vines of ivy which interlinked the mirror images. Identical vines were also etched along the entire length of the blade. The grip of the dagger was wrapped with superbly tanned brown leather; the coin pommel adorned with the emblem of the House of Fëanor upon one side, Celegorm’s personal sigil on the other.

The eyes of the stag were made of tiny green gemstones. They seemed to beckon him…or did they taunt him? Anyway, the strange illusion intensified Celegorm’s longing for woodland solitude. He had tarried long enough at the outpost; it was time to move on. He and Huan would set out afoot in the morning, while his horse remained at the outpost. They would cross the borders and travel south into the wide, densely wooded area that lay between his realm and that of the Sindar. His huntsmen had already received instruction ere they had set out to the hunt together; they would turn west to check on another outpost, keeping an eye on possible signs of trespassing along the border.

A wave of joyful anticipation washed over Celegorm. As if Huan sensed his master’s thoughts, the large hound raised his head and stared at him before resuming his dozing with a contented huff.

 

*~*~*

 

They had reached the densely wooded region five days ago. In contrast to the cold plains of Himlad, spring had already driven away the last remnants of winter in the lands south of their borders and greeted them with mild weather and game to hunt aplenty. Breaking camp at first light each morning, Celegorm spent the forenoon wandering the sea of vivid greens without haste, enjoying the calm the ancient trees exuded while Huan roamed about. Small streams and wells provided fresh water, inviting the travelers to rest nearby and revel in the peaceful beauty of the woodland scenery; thus it was never difficult to find a suitable location to pitch camp.

When Celegorm found a spot appealing, the preparations that followed were almost a personal ritual. He dug a fire pit and gathered a stock of firewood and tinder, storing both in a dry place for later use. He refilled his waterskin then refreshed and washed himself while Huan curiously explored their surroundings or splashed in the cool water like a boisterous whelp. Next Celegorm enjoyed cold roasted meat which remained of the game he had shot the day before along with cheese, dried fruit, flat bread and nuts from his pack’s provisions. Huan’s share of the game had been saved uncooked, and Celegorm smiled as the hound playfully nosed among the leftover bones.

Afterward they rested, Huan dozing in the sun, yet remaining watchful while Celegorm closed his eyes and allowed his senses to be flooded by the myriad of impressions from his forest surroundings. Sunbeams broke through the thick foliage and combined with the soft spring breeze prickled on his skin like a feather-light caress. The piping of birds mingled with the rustling of leaves, gentle creaking of trees and gurgling of the stream was music to Celegorm’s ears; the mixed aroma of humid earth, young leaves, burgeoning buds and conifer invigorating and more alluring than the most exquisite scented oils. The forest cradled, sang to and caressed him as Celegorm drifted, allowing his body and mind to relax.

Even while completely losing track of time, Celegorm intuitively emerged from his meditative state when it was time to check and prepare his hunting gear, and he did so with as much devotion as others would attend a lover. He checked the limbs of his bow for twists and miniscule travel damage, then carefully tested the tension of the string and ran a cake of beeswax over it before setting it aside to empty his quiver. A small inside pocket held several spare bowstrings which Celegorm inspected; then he scrutinized each arrow before putting it back into the quiver. Finally, he took a small grindstone from his pack and turned to sharpen his hunting knife and dagger while humming a merry tune.

The serenity of this routine made the exhilaration of the later chase even sweeter. Most huntsmen had private rituals they followed before setting out in search of game, yet only when he hunted alone did Celegorm allow himself to indulge in his extended ritual of preparation. For him, setting up camp, meditating and preparing were as much parts of the hunt as tracking, chasing and bringing down his catch or dressing and roasting it afterward. Curufin could not understand this mindset. Whenever they hunted together, his brother’s impatience to rush into the chase was the basis for argument; though not even Celegorm’s fellow hunters viewed a hunt as such a complex process. His faithful Huan, however, accepted his habits with equanimity.

When he finally set out to track, Celegorm did so with tranquil discipline and keen anticipation, the seemingly opposing sensations melding into something too unique to describe. What thrilled him most was honing his skill of stalking until he was almost beside the unsuspecting animal and able to shoot with ease; or to test his endurance by chasing after fleeing quarry on foot with Huan until he was breathless. Rabbits and hares were his usual game, or pheasants, a young boar if the opportunity arose, yet Celegorm shot just enough to provide a decent evening meal and meat to eat on the morrow before they would hunt anew. Anything more would be wasted.

The spiritual nature of his hunt encompassed due respect to nature and the animal whose life he had taken; kneeling beside the beast to place a sprig of evergreen in its mouth and speaking a small prayer of thanks and gratitude for its sacrifice. He cleaned his game immediately afterward, hung it from a high branch out of reach of predators until he returned to collect it. He would then hunt more if necessary, or simply track and chase for the joy of it.

When he returned to camp, Celegorm skinned the carcass and buried the remains he could not use a short distance away. Wrapping the rest into the hide, he carried it back to the fireside where he rubbed the meat with herbs and spitted it to roast. Huan was always at his side, roaming about with impatient excitement, snuffling at the scent of blood and fresh meat, yet the hound was well trained and knew he would have to wait until his master allowed him his fill. It was then that Celegorm and Huan usually engaged in a playful tug of war with the hide which distracted the hound, a game they both thoroughly enjoyed. Afterward, Celegorm allowed his faithful friend to feast on his share of the hunt while he went to wash himself, change into clean clothes and cleanse his hunting gear. When he was done, he sat by the fire, brewed himself a cup of tea or else mulled wine from the small wineskin he had brought, and waited until his own meal was ready.

In Celegorm’s opinion, the meal after the hunt tasted best when the gravy oozing roast was eaten right from the spit. Cutting away morsel after morsel, it was a rare pleasure he only indulged in on his solitary hunts; as in company he would never display such a lack of table manners. When Celegorm was sated, he let the remaining roast cool then sliced it to keep as provision for the next day, along with raw meat he had set aside for Huan. These he would keep cool in the water overnight, stored in two sacks of smooth waxed leather he used especially for this purpose, tightly closed and carefully placed to keep them from sinking or floating away. His ritual concluded with gathering the remains of the hide and leftover bones, which would also be buried outside the camp. Then, calling Huan to his side, he took a long stroll to revel in the beauty of the nightly forest.

During the periods when Celegorm temporarily shed his life as a lord and warrior to solely be a hunter, his life was simple; yet he needed these calm and uncomplicated days as a balance to his usual life and duties. He could not imagine living such a humble life forever, too accustomed to the luxuries of his noble station, yet he cherished these rare occasions…though they paled in comparison to the blissful days spent in Oromë’s Forest, alone or in company of his mentor. Those times were forever lost to him, yet his memories of them were vivid and potent in more ways than most people could even imagine…unfulfilled longing burned within him, hot, never ceasing, tormenting.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


	2. The Pursuit

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Silently Celegorm glided through the forest, faithful Huan by his side. Soft rays of the morning sun broke through the thick canopy of leaves, painting their surroundings with a dim greenish shade which made the place appear mystical, even more so with the occasional wafting of mist between the trees. This was Celegorm’s favourite time to walk the forests; the world around him stirring from its nightly slumber, the air damp with mist; leaves heavy with dew which sparkled in the soft light like a scattering of gems and pearls.

Yet despite the hauntingly beautiful surroundings, Celegorm was uneasy. For four days he’d felt as if hidden eyes secretly observed him; even though nothing indicated he was being followed or spied upon, he could not rid himself of this strange sentiment. The forest itself seemed to have eyes and ears, though surely Huan would be alerted if there was any threat. The ever watchful hound did not seem to sense anything out of the ordinary, but this did not ease Celegorm’s growing apprehension. Celegorm was oddly thrilled; the elusive yet potent presence kept him on edge and made his skin prickle with excitement, though whenever he came close to grasping what exactly it was, it withdrew.

He had broken camp long before first light this morning, the strange feeling more prominent than all the days before; occupying his every thought and awakening a restlessness within him he could not dispel. The sensation was as if Celegorm was tracking an elusive prey. There were no visible tracks for him to follow, but the trees whispered to him, drawing him deeper to the heart of the forest. Even the very air seemed to promise the revelation of a secret which haunted and taunted him equally. His mind warned him to caution; what if he blindly walked into a cunningly laid trap, one that even deceived faithful Huan? But the hunter he was found himself eager to rise to the challenge; drowning out the voice of prudence.

The snapping of a twig alerted Celegorm, the sound almost inaudible, yet easily discernable to his sharp hearing from the otherwise normal sounds of the forest. He froze, intent on catching any other signal that might provide a clue while his eyes searched the direction from which the noise had originated, yet met with nothing but mists his gaze could not penetrate. Even though Huan sniffed the trackless ground carefully, he quickly lost interest; leading Celegorm to believe what he had sensed was neither threat nor worthy quarry, else the hound would be eager to pick up the trail. It must certainly be only a small animal they had flushed and which had quickly fled without leaving imprints on the moss and leaf covered ground; nevertheless Celegorm decided to stray from his previously chosen path alongside a small stream to follow this new direction instead.

The mist grew steadily denser in the area of the forest Celegorm now explored, obscuring his vision to a degree where he could only discern his surroundings as hazy outlines and a surreal blurring of greens and browns. Out of the corner of his eye he suddenly detected movement, a shape soundlessly gliding through the mist, stilling for an instant before moving on. He followed cautiously, making no sound; yet lost sight of the mysterious shape several times when it vanished into the thickening mist, only to reappear elsewhere until it finally disappeared completely. Never before had Celegorm been uncertain of exactly what he was chasing. It seemed a larger animal, considering the size and shape, yet Huan remained indifferent. Perhaps his eyes had merely been deceived; beholding naught but dancing shadows caused by the interplay of flickering sunlight through the forest canopy, moving to the breath of a breeze too gentle to clear the mist.

Celegorm fruitlessly searched the ground yet again for tracks where he had last seen the mysterious shape. He was close to accepting the possibility of his mind playing tricks on him when he caught sight of something that roused his interest anew. Only a few paces away, the mist cleared slightly and a shaft of sunlight pierced a large gap in the foliage, illuminating a fist sized stone which obviously had been moved recently. The slight hollow where it had been embedded was distinct, as were the dampness and traces of humid earth on the upturned surface of the stone where it had rested in the ground. It could be coincidence, but there was no way Celegorm could discern if the stone was moved at the exact time he had chased the shape through the mist, yet his instincts told him he was not chasing a phantom.

Celegorm instinctively followed the direction of the being that had caused the stone to be disturbed. There were no further clues, but soon the mist cleared and when he turned and looked back, Celegorm found to his surprise that he had emerged from what seemed to be a passage leading out of a valley. Wooded slopes rose to each side, only dimly visible through the obscuring mist; it irked Celegorm to have been so distracted as to become oblivious to his surroundings. He had been too careless in following the mysterious phantom, especially not knowing what he had been chasing; if not a merely a figment of the imagination. Even though Huan would warn him of anything that could even remotely be a threat - be it evil spawn, animal, man or even a foreign elf - it was not like him to completely rely on his faithful hound and lose full awareness of a situation, neither as warrior nor hunter had he ever lost control.

Climbing the wooded slope before him, Celegorm sought to get a clearer view of his surroundings from the ridge at the top. When he glanced about, he found that he had indeed crossed a small valley in which the mist gathered as if a ghostly white blanket had been cast across the forested area lying below. The view was hauntingly beautiful and when Celegorm gazed into the distance, he saw the cleft through which he had entered the hollow; mist welling forth from it like steam from a cup, just as it did on this side. The stream he had followed previously bypassed the valley in a bow; he would meet it again if he walked straight ahead. He decided to return to it now that he knew his heedless expedition had not caused him to stray too far from the path he had chosen earlier.

It was yet morning, far too early to seek a new campsite. Thus Celegorm wandered upstream for another hour without incident until the course of the stream turned northwards to where its spring probably originated in the mountains. Celegorm had no desire yet to return north to where his own lands lay. He would have to do so soon enough; thus his gaze scanned the dense forest stretching south, seeking a new path to follow. To his right, he caught sight of something which both drew his interest and alerted him: a broken spiderweb still heavy with dew sparkled in the sun between two low hanging branches, at almost shoulder height. The fine web had not been completely torn; only the lower part of the fine gossamer had been damaged. Nor was the web abandoned, its eight legged inhabitant busily inspecting and mending the fine net as he watched, indicating the damage was recent.

Something of considerable height must have come this way recently, and whatever the nature of the being, it was likely to have left additional signs somewhere. Carefully, Celegorm searched the area around the spiderweb and found a fine filament of gossamer which had caught on the rough bark of the tree anchoring it, indicating the quarry had moved south. Then only a few paces ahead, his gaze finally discerned a single, fresh imprint on the ground. The unusual shape puzzled him, it was neither hoof nor paw print, nor left there by a bird’s foot, nor was its source either bare human foot or shoe. The depression was rather roughly funnel shaped, smooth and rounded at the bottom. Gazing at Huan, Celegorm hoped to find the hound had picked up a scent, but shook his head in bewilderment when his friend was again unhelpful in solving the mystery; his entire interest focused upon a squirrel on a branch above.

Thrilled and challenged by his strange discovery, Celegorm called Huan to his side and headed south in the direction the elusive trace dictated, yet was thrown off the track again when he could find no further imprints. Frustration welled up within him, twice he had found mysterious clues, yet twice his search had come to nothing despite his superb tracking skills and Huan’s sharp senses. His frustration escalated and he was close to losing his temper, but he held himself in check as the prickling, uneasy feeling of being secretly observed returned. He tried once more to tell himself it was merely imagination awakened by the odd occurrences thus far, yet again his instincts indicated otherwise. Celegorm took a moment to regain his composure, inhaling deeply of the rich fragrance of the forest before slowly continuing upon his way, senses highly alert.

Not long after, he caught a distant, bright reflection in his peripheral vision, yet when he turned his head it was gone and Celegorm saw naught but trees and thicket, unable to pinpoint its source. It had been too bright to be one of the normal, dancing tricks of light the flickering sunlight painted when it fell through the billowing branches to set beads of dew aglow. Only light caught by a reflective surface could have caused such an intense gleam; water maybe…or a weapon. He sincerely doubted any armed being other than his own kind could sneak up on him so closely without alerting his sharp hearing, yet not even an elf could escape Huan’s notice and the hound had remained unconcerned. Nevertheless, the mysterious discoveries thus far had him highly strung; Celegorm gripped his bow and carefully chose a path where the forest provided the best cover as he soundlessly made his way to the approximate position from which the reflection had originated.

He would not rush headlong into chasing another phantom, yet instantly took cover and nocked an arrow when he heard the snapping of a twig in the distance to his left. Peeking out, he was just in time to catch sight of movement in a far thicket, its density preventing his gaze from penetrating, but after long moments of careful observation, no further sound or motion betrayed the presence of another being. Huan’s ears twitched and the hound curiously gazed in the direction of the thicket, nevertheless he did not seem to have caught the scent of anything to either interest or alert him. Cursing silently, Celegorm carefully approached the thicket in a wide arc and finally rounded it, scanning his surroundings both for possible threats and fresh tracks. What manner of being moved without leaving sign of its passage upon the damp ground or disturbing the dew upon leaf or grass?

Unsurprisingly, he found neither animal nor anything else hiding either within or beyond the thicket, yet a single twig close to the ground had been freshly snapped off; certainly the source of the sound which had alerted him. Again nothing indicated the nature of his quarry or the path it had taken, yet as it was impossible that anything could have fled either to the left or right without his awareness, the only way of escape would have been straight ahead, where the thicket had blocked his view from his previous vantage point. His arrow still nocked in readiness, Celegorm soundlessly followed, determined not to overlook any clue. A few paces further along, he found a single, freshly torn oak leaf; yet glancing about, Celegorm noted he was surrounded by beech trees. Another mysterious trace; and again anticipation washed over him, drawing him onward.

 

*~*~*

 

The forest around him grew denser the further Celegorm ventured, following his hunter’s instincts as he found no further signs to lead him. He shouldered his weapon and replaced the arrow to his quiver when the thickets between the trees and interwoven low branches made it difficult to move unhindered; even Huan had to struggle to pick his way through the greenery. Yet Celegorm intuitively knew he was nearing the end of his chase. A whisper seemed to carry within each gust of breeze and every rustling of leaves, even the piping of birds held the promise of the secret finally being revealed. With each step he took, Celegorm felt the elusive presence which had haunted him for days become more tangible.

When the tangled undergrowth and trees finally opened, a large clearing lay ahead of them, bathed in the warm rays of the midday sun. A clear pond sparkled in its center, fed by a small spring that welled from a rock on the far side. Celegorm gasped, not because of the beautiful sight but because he finally laid eyes on what he instinctively knew to be the mysterious phantom which had eluded him. Back turned to Celegorm, his elusive prey slaked its thirst at the fountain, tall and graceful, fawn brown hair gleaming reddish in the sun. Even though nothing in the movement or posture indicated his quarry was aware of Celegorm’s presence, Celegorm knew better. As if sensing Celegorm’s thought, the phantom turned in one fluid, graceful motion and stared at Celegorm with sparkling eyes.

The eyes…Celegorm startled, immediately thinking of the dagger at his belt. The eyes gleamed emerald, every bit as beckoning and taunting as the green gem eyes of the engraved stag had the night by the fire. Their gaze bore into his, teasing, causing Celegorm’s anger to flare anew. He had been played, tricked into a meticulously planned game of hide and seek which had led him to this place of the enigmatic presence’s choosing, to finally meet him face to face. From the beginning, the hunter had instead been the hunted; but the game was not yet over. They would play by Celegorm’s terms now. Slowly he let his pack slide to the ground, loosened the straps which held his quiver and carefully put it down together with his bow; curious eyes following his every movement.

“The hunt is not yet done, but I will need no weapons to bring thee down, my elusive quarry,” Celegorm challenged haughtily. “Prove to me how fleet thou art and how gracefully thou canst run, my proud stag. I want a good chase before I emerge victorious and claim my prize!” A sparkle lit the eyes of the apparition at his remark, teasing and full of mirth, before the head slightly bowed in acceptance of the challenge. A blink of the eye later, the quarry was vanishing into the forest, Celegorm following only a few heartbeats later, commanding Huan to stay back while he chased after his prey. This challenge was personal, a matter of pride. He would succeed without the aid of his hound.

The pursuit was all Celegorm had yearned for and more; exhilarating and thrilling, yet a true test of his endurance. Swift and agile, his quarry darted through the forest, sidestepping or leaping over obstacles with a graceful elegance which was surprising while being so hard pressed. Maintaining the gruelling pace was demanding, at times it seemed as if the phantom was flying ahead of him, yet Celegorm knew if he ever once lost sight, the challenge would be done and his prey would melt into the forest without a trace.

The unfamiliar forest challenged Celegorm, making it impossible for him to proceed tactically; thus he had to rely on physical strength, constantly trying to close the distance between them. He almost lost his quarry when the apparition took a sharp turn to the left, sprinting into a cleft between two high rocks which led straight into a blackberry thicket on the other side. Celegorm’s momentum prevented him making the sharp turn necessary to duck into a narrow passage between thicket and rock, and he crashed sideways into the brambles where his clothes and hair caught in the thorny twines. Thankfully, his leather garb protected most of his skin from the thorns, yet he suffered a deep, bleeding scratch on the side of his neck and several shallow ones on his hands.

Freeing himself, he emerged from the thicket cursing furiously. His quarry had again dared to play him for a fool; the humiliation of it tasted sour and bit deeper than the thorns. Frantically scanning his surroundings for the vicious forest sprite, he caught a glimpse of fawn disappearing between the trees. Spurred by his anger, Celegorm took up pursuit again, unwilling to surrender. He poured all his anger into a powerful sprint that pushed him almost to his limits and succeeded in catching up enough to not lose sight again. He lost track of time, the forest swept past him in a blur of greens and browns as he kept his gaze focussed on his quarry and the ground immediately ahead of him.

Celegorm’s heart was pumping rapidly, his breath heaving, struggling for more air. Perspiration drenched his skin, burned like fire at the scratch on his neck and trickled stickily down his back and chest. Yet he pressed onward, slowly gained ground, his strength of will ignoring the limits of his body, pushing him beyond. His prey seemed to tire as well, the once fluid movements faltering at times, less elegant; while Celegorm drew closer with every step, feeling the chase was finally nearing its end. His nostrils caught the scent of sweat and it spurred him even further, lent him wings. The trees around them cleared and with a feral growl, Celegorm pushed himself forward; leaped and crashed into his quarry, sending them tumbling to the grassy ground.

They rolled and fought; then suddenly cool water hit their heated bodies like a shockwave, yet their struggle never faltered. Teeth sank into Celegorm’s wrist when he tried to restrain his catch, yet he did not loosen his hold but roughly gripped the fawn hair with his free hand and pulled his hissing prize back onto the grass, straddling the writhing body. Green eyes glared at him, free of taunt and mockery, yet full of untamed wildness and with a deep growl Celegorm leaned forward, roughly jerked his prize’s head closer by his hair and crashed his lips against him in a brutal kiss. Teeth clashed, bit down onto soft lips and tasted blood. Tongues fought, forced their way past each other and explored unknown territory until the need to breathe forced them apart only to join again with new ferocity.

Hands impatiently tugged and tore at tough leather clothing. Nails left red trails on pale skin in their urgency to dispose of the material which separated their naked flesh. Each new patch of skin that was revealed was greedily tasted, licked and sucked, marked by teeth in their feral need. When the last bit of clothing finally fell away, hands roughly explored sweat slick skin and long limbs entwined, pulling each other closer. Heated flesh strained against each other, ripped throaty moans from them until their pulsing erections wept clear pearls of precum.

Roughly, Celegorm turned the other onto his belly, slicked his straining erection with salvia then dug his fingers deep into the white skin of the other’s narrow hips and pulled his prize into a kneeling position, brutally claiming him with one hard thrust. Tight heat enveloped him and a feral growl rose deep from his throat, met by the shocked hiss of pain when the other was suddenly filled and stretched so wholly. Yet Celegorm was too driven by his need and hunger to hold back, pulling out almost completely he slammed back into the velvety sheath, eliciting a long drawn moan from the other, as he grazed his pleasure spot and pain turned into blinding bliss.

Setting a punishing pace, Celegorm plunged deep into the welcoming body that strove toward him and met every thrust. There was no gentleness in their coupling; their feral need outweighed everything but the brutal clashing of their bodies, accompanied by hoarse moans and cries of pleasure mingling with pain. When Celegorm knew he was finally nearing his peak, he pulled the other up by his hair and drove even deeper into his body, his other hand roughly stroking his companion’s weeping erection. Another hard thrust, and another, then his climax rolled over Celegorm with a shocking intensity that caused his body to shudder violently as he spilled his seed deep in the tight, pulsing heat. With a roar of triumph he claimed his victory and sank his teeth deep into the tender flesh of his prize’s exposed throat, marked him in the same moment he felt the body under him shake uncontrollably with wave after wave of a shattering climax.

Exhausted, they collapsed onto the grass in a heap of limbs and long, sweat drenched hair, struggling to regain their breath. Every muscle in Celegorm’s body ached. The demanding chase and their rough coupling had drained him utterly and a blissful, sated weariness overtook his body.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


	3. Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I did not mention Celegorm's looks in the previous chapters, I think I should point one thing out: **I'm writing Celegorm with dark hair.** Just thought I should mention it, as there are discussions if he is blond or dark-haired because of the different ways one can interpret "Celegorm the Fair". I let Sullhach make the choice, as I'm writing the story for her, and she imagines Celegorm with dark hair, but particularly pale (fair) skin. The choice of the eye color is also hers. Beleg’s appearance is how I love to envision him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Celegorm woke to a soft breeze ghosting its fingers across his naked skin in a light caress, but he refrained from moving just yet. The warm body in his arms melded perfectly into his embrace and the steady heartbeat and calm breathing of his companion kept him at ease. Casting a quick glance about, Celegorm realized their wild pursuit had ended just where it had begun, in the clearing with the pond. Faithful Huan dozed beside his discarded pack and weapons beneath a tree a few paces away from them. Sensing his master's attention, the furry head rose immediately and the hound's dark eyes stared at him for a moment before, curiosity sated, the head sank back onto the large front paws.

Content that their sanctuary was safely guarded, Celegorm turned his attention back to the sleeping body in his arms; taking his time to commit every detail to memory. He was magnificent; though on the rare occasions they had crossed each other's path in the past, Celegorm had never noticed…no, he had never _bothered_ to truly look. His eyes, even unfocussed in peaceful slumber, sparkled like forest pools in a multitude of shades of green; deep and full of secrets. The fall of fawn brown hair, tangled by their rough coupling, reached past his waist and had fanned out on the grass, save for a few strands which lay draped across his body. Small leaves caught in the silken strands gave the illusion of leafy vines coiling from his head and made him appear like a woodland spirit, a part of the forest itself. He even carried its scent. Beneath the slight overlay of cooled perspiration and the heavy musk of sex, the alluring fragrance of leaves, moss, fern and herbs clung to his skin and hair; and Celegorm inhaled deeply of it.

He let his gaze wander down across narrow hips and long, shapely legs. They were of similar height, though his companion's frame was a bit more slender. Yet the muscle and sinew beneath the alabaster skin left no doubt regarding the strength and endurance of the lithe body. Celegorm had gotten a fair taste of this physical prowess during the pursuit and the following struggle, only his anger-fuelled willpower had bought him his victory in the end. Slender fingers were woven into Celegorm's hair, a palm resting on his back; lightly calloused from wielding sword and bow, just as his own hands were. The skin Celegorm's fingers touched was soft and warm, the marks of their feral encounter still visible, marring the perfect paleness; though they were beautiful in their own savage way.

Absently, Celegorm trailed a fingertip along an angry red bite mark on the other's throat, remembering the metallic tang of blood on his tongue and the outcry of his companion which sealed his triumph and the other's surrender. A sigh scattered his musings as the body in his arms stirred, stretching, before a groan and muffled curse proclaimed his companion awake.

"Sore?" Celegorm did not bother to hide the taunt in his voice, which earned him another, far ruder curse and a furious glare. "I deem it a just punishment for playing me for a fool. A punishment I, for my part, thoroughly enjoyed meting out. I cannot recall thee complaining when thou didst writhe and moan beneath me, but I clearly recall thy pleading for more."

"Thou arrogant…" the rest of the reply was lost when Celegorm crushed his lips against his companion's, silencing him with a possessive kiss that was fervently returned after a moment of proud defiance.

"Who would have guessed that the elusive forest sprite haunting me was no less than thee, Beleg Cúthalion?" Celegorm murmured against the elf's lips when they finally parted for breath. "And who would have thought thy stern bearing masked such a feral passion? Thou didst truly surprise me."

"Who would have thought thy annoying arrogance masked…well, there is no more to thee than this, Celegorm Fëanorion! And it surprises me not a bit," Beleg shot back sarcastically, though inwardly he cringed. There _was_ more, he had seen it; and it had drawn him to Celegorm.

Freeing himself of Celegorm's embrace, Beleg rose to his feet, wincing when his sore behind protested. Turning away, he stepped into the pond, suddenly feeling the need to wash the scent and sticky remnants of their encounter from his skin. Wading in waist deep, the cool water immediately eased the soreness, but Beleg bit back his sigh of relief; he would not relinquish his dignity under the Noldo's lingering attention…storm-grey, slightly green-tinged eyes, a mesmerizing gaze which seemed to devour him. Ignoring Celegorm, he started to wash, trying to blot out the memory of calloused hands and demanding lips roaming his body, closing his eyes against the betraying marks which glared at him from the expanse of his skin.

Soft splashing alerted Beleg of the Noldo's presence in the pond, but he resisted the urge to lash out when he felt Celegorm step up behind him. Unbidden, the Noldo began to pluck leaves and small twigs from Beleg's hair before carefully smoothing out the long mane until it was free of tangles. The gentle gesture took Beleg by surprise and he steeled himself for more of Celegorm's mockery; yet the Noldo remained silent and eventually Beleg relaxed despite his anger. He could not suppress a sharp intake of breath when his hair was brushed aside and he felt Celegorm's warm breath and lips ghost across his shoulder, neck and ear.

"Then why didst thou invite me, if thou thinkest me such a nuisance?" The whispered words were spoken with honest curiosity, yet Beleg remained wary of the Noldo's intentions. Not answering, he ducked beneath the surface to rinse his hair. When he emerged, Celegorm slowly turned him by his shoulders and gazed at him for a long, thoughtful moment before he spoke again. "An invitation it was, without doubt;" he mused, searching Beleg's eyes. "These forests are vast and thou knowest them well, Beleg. Thou couldst have easily avoided crossing my path."

Again Celegorm was met with defiant silence; Beleg unwilling to yet forgive his earlier condescending words. To reveal his motives would mean sharing a very intimate secret with the Noldo. In doing so, Beleg would make himself vulnerable; but could he trust Celegorm not to use it as another opportunity to offend him and make him the brunt of his sharp tongue?

"Wouldst thou at least return the favour and help me with my hair?" Celegorm inquired, turning his back to Beleg to allow him to tend to his thick mane of dark hair.

Celegorm knew he had offended Beleg. Perhaps he had indeed carried his taunting a bit too far, but it still irked him that he had so easily fallen prey to Beleg's little game of hide and seek, not to mention his inelegant crash into the blackberry thicket during the pursuit. He grudgingly admitted being impressed by Beleg's cunning. Why had the other elf chosen to draw him into this game? The Sindar were not on good terms with the Noldor, especially with him and his brethren. On the rare occasions he had met Beleg while on patrol far from their borders, only a few, necessary words had been exchanged about recent enemy movements.

Closing his eyes, Celegorm revelled in the feeling of Beleg's nimble fingers smoothing out his hair. With a smile, he noted how the occasional brushing of fingertips across his skin lingered an instant longer than required, making his skin prickle pleasantly beneath the touch. For now, he would let the matter rest; Beleg would not answer his questions anyway, but Celegorm's curiosity was piqued; he was certain Beleg's motives went far deeper than showing him up and having a romp in the forest, and he was intent upon learning the nature of the other's secret.

 

*~*~*

 

They finished their bath in silence, then gathered their scattered clothes and donned their trousers. Beleg vanished into one of the trees bordering the clearing, climbing it with such elegance and ease that not a single leaf was stirred nor the faintest rustle audible. He soundlessly dropped to the ground a few moments later with a leather satchel and his weapons, setting them down onto the grass beside what proved to be a well-concealed fire pit. Firewood, tinder and a small kettle were produced from their hiding place beneath a nearby thicket and soon water was heating above a small fire and the scent of tea herbs filled the air.

"I have no spare cup," Beleg announced apologetically, with a cautious smile. "But I know thou hast thine own in thy pack."

"Of course," Celegorm nodded and rose to collect his pack and weapons, casting Beleg a glare over his shoulder as he went. "I am certain thou knowest the exact contents of my pack, as thou didst spy on me ceaselessly."

Beleg could barely suppress a chuckle and quickly sipped his tea. It truly ate at Celegorm that he had not been able to catch the haunting presence – him – who had shadowed his every movement. Returning to the fire with Huan trotting beside him, Celegorm helped himself to a cup of tea and sat, absently petting Huan's head while eying Beleg contemplatively.

"I wonder why Huan was not alerted by thy presence? He should have sensed thee," Celegorm finally observed. "He usually warns me of _any_ threat."

"A threat?" Beleg grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "If I had been a threat, I would have had plenty of opportunities to do thee harm."

"Lo and behold! Who is bragging now? Thou seemest to unduly enjoy rubbing thy triumph in my face. Thou art not one jot better than I," Celegorm shot back accusingly. "Thou mayest not have been a threat, but thou art a stranger. For Huan, _any_ stranger – be it elf or man, presents a potential threat and he reacts accordingly. What strange Sindarin witchery was this?"

"No witchery at all, as thou dost so crudely put it, "Beleg answered plainly; not rising to the offense. His thoughts drifted for a moment, recalling old memories. "I am no stranger to Huan."

"How so? On the few occasions thou and I have met, I recall Huan not being at my side." Celegorm's gaze angrily darted from Beleg to Huan, trying to figure out what Beleg was hiding from him. The Sinda's vague answers only prompted more questions, annoying Celegorm further.

"Needst thou always argue, Celegorm?" Beleg sighed as he unwrapped a leather bundle containing strips of cold roast. "I am starving. Thou art rather demanding company."

"Thou dost taunt and provoke me," Celegorm answered, glaring at the Sinda.

"Guilty." Beleg chuckled, shaking his head while slicing an apple. "But then, I only pay thee back in kind. Shall we eat now?"

"Didst not thou initiate this game in the first place?" Celegorm snapped.

"Yes, but I meant no offense. We are both hunters and warriors, measuring our skills comes naturally to us." Offering Celegorm meat and fruit, Beleg sat cross-legged and chose a slice of apple. "I was able to trick thee during the tracking, while thou didst beat me in the pursuit. I am not ashamed to admit that thy endurance and physical prowess surpassed mine."

"Is this why thou didst invite me?" Celegorm asked, his temper mollified by Beleg's calm admittance. "To compare our skills?" Adding his own supply of roast meat and a small bag of nuts and raisins to their meal, he awaited the Sinda's answer.

"Partly, though it is not as simple as that." Slowly chewing on some nuts, Beleg grew thoughtful but then smiled mildly at Celegorm. "Nothing I care to discuss with a growling belly and while thou art in such an irritable mood."

Tired of trying to worm answers out of Beleg, Celegorm gave up for the moment. He fed Huan, who impatiently sniffed at the scent of food, the small remains of raw meat and a few bites of the roast, before he resumed eating his own fill. They ate in silence, the tension between them evident, both dwelling on their own thoughts until Celegorm suddenly furrowed his brow and gazed at Beleg quizzically.

"There is one more question to which I am dying to know the answer," Celegorm said, and grinned when Beleg rolled his eyes. "The strangely shaped track near the broken spiderweb…what manner of imprint was this? I honestly have no clue."

"No offence, but thy face when thou didst examine it was priceless," Beleg chuckled; his green eyes gleaming with mirth. "I nearly fell from the tree trying to stifle my laughter. I would have landed right on thy head."

"Thou wert so close? Above me in the tree?" Celegorm exclaimed, but laughed. "And I thought there was merely a squirrel."

"Oh, the squirrel found thy expression priceless as well," Beleg teased. "But to put thee out of thy misery, it was the imprint of my elbow. I try this one on all the hunters I train, and not one in centuries could figure it out."

"Cunning fox," Celegorm bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I will certainly try it on my own hunters."

"There are plenty more feigned tracks to set their wits to work…"

 

*~*~*

 

They talked long, the tension between them melting and their laughter hearty as they shared cunning ruses, hunting anecdotes or those of their training with fellow hunters and warriors; finally discussing hunting techniques and equipment. Their lives and cultures were different, yet they found they had things in common. Their shared love for the forest and the hunt; their yearning for solitary hunting trips to escape their duties for awhile.

When Huan finally, impatiently nudged Celegorm, a glance to the sky revealed the sun had wandered far while they had been deeply immersed in conversation; it was already afternoon. It was the time of day Celegorm and Huan usually set out to hunt their evening meal, though today Celegorm found it difficult to rouse himself and prepare. His muscles were still a bit sore, his burning anticipation of the hunt sated by the different sort of chase he had enjoyed earlier. He found he would prefer to continue his conversation with Beleg. It was to no avail though, his meat provisions were depleted and he doubted Beleg had enough left to sate the large appetite of his hound, aside from the fact that he would never ask the other elf to provide for Huan.

As if sensing his inner debate, Beleg cast Celegorm a bright smile. "There is a small lake not far from here. A beautiful spot, excellent fishing and a good place to answer questions. What thinkest thou? We could catch a decent evening meal for the three of us while we talk."

Celegorm did not object. The idea of a calm afternoon of fishing and talking sounded rather inviting for a change, and even more so the prospect of finally gaining answers to his questions. Soon they rose to prepare, donned the rest of their clothing and hid their packs and the kettle in the tree Beleg had previously vanished into; a small platform of tied together branches, invisible from the ground, providing space for storage. The fire was covered, thus it could not spread while unattended, yet the embers would remain warm to easily light it anew upon their return. Celegorm had not brought along fishing equipment but Beleg was prepared: a ball of fine, yet strong string, fishhooks, small weights, a corked jar to collect bait and a net to store the catch. Makeshift fishing rods could be easily found once they reached the lake, thus they donned their weapons and set out.

Unhurried, they walked side by side; easily slipping back into their conversation about the hunt while Huan roamed about in wide circles. It turned out that Beleg, just as Celegorm, felt especially drawn to solitary hunts at this time of the year; though the winters in Doriath were milder and the soul of a hunter felt less constrained in the vast forests. Beleg nevertheless longed to replenish his soul in the woodland solitude and newly awakened nature before returning to his warrior duties; when hunting would become merely a necessity to provide food and not opportunity for the easing of his mind. The ancient forest region they walked was not populated by elves or men, even those elves who had forsaken the shelter of Melian's girdle dwelled close to Doriath's borders; yet Beleg regularly led patrols hither to keep the enemy at bay.

In less than an hour they reached their destination, and Beleg had not exaggerated its beauty. Serene and idyllic, the small lake lay enclosed in the heart of the forest, the grassy edge partly overhung by branches of the ancient trees surrounding it. The afternoon sun painted its surface in shades of gold and green, and they stood in silence for several minutes, revelling in the beautiful scenery before they walked along its edge in search of a spot where they would be able to cast their fishing lines unhindered. It did not take them long to choose the perfect location. Along the way, they collected long, slender, straight branches; wood to make floats, and insects and worms to use as bait.

Setting their weapons aside, Celegorm cleaned their makeshift fishing rods of twigs and surface irregularities with his knife while Beleg sat down to carve floats; Huan observing them curiously. Though when it became obvious that his master had no intention to set out upon a hunt, the hound, to Beleg's utter amusement, tried several times to snatch the branches from Celegorm and engage in a tug of war. Celegorm finally won the struggle and Huan withdrew, apparently sulking. He then busied himself with chewing on a large stick instead, while Beleg and Celegorm quickly readied their fishing equipment without further interruptions.

Soon they sat on the grass side by side, talking quietly while the floats bobbed up and down on the water. Not long after, the first fish bit and Celegorm pulled out a large trout. He had just freed his catch from the hook when Huan was back at his side, curiously nosing the wriggly fish until it slipped from Celegorms hands and flopped to the ground, the hound pouncing on it too quickly for Celegorm to stop him. Cursing, Celegorm tried to pull Huan away, yet was halted by Beleg who smiled fondly at the scene.

"There are fish aplenty eager to bite," Beleg spoke calmingly, directing Celegorm back to where they had sat. "Why begrudge thy friend his small joy? He is bored, as thou didst abandon hunting today; the fish will keep him busy for a while."

"He did this intentionally," Celegorm muttered, darting an angry glance at the hound. "Bored or not, a hound must not disobey his master."

"Thou knowest he is a most faithful and loyal friend; he would never disobey in a serious situation. Wilt thou let this small incident spoil thy mood for the rest of the day?" Beleg asked with a sigh. "Thou art right, though…he is demonstrating his mischievous streak." He paused, green eyes sparkling while a secretive smile played across his face. "Huan has not lost his sense of humour since I last knew him; thousands of years ago."

"Thousands of years…?" Celegorm exclaimed, staring at Beleg in utter bewilderment.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


	4. The Venom of Jealousy

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 _Thousands of years_ …it echoed as Celegorm pensively observed Huan for several long moments; a Huan who was blissfully unaware of his master’s confusion while devouring his fish. Beleg’s statement dumbfounded him; he momentarily lost his power of speech as his mind tried to comprehend what he had heard. Of course Huan’s life span was extraordinary; the hound was special, but…

“Thou truly hadst no idea he was so ancient a being?” Beleg’s calm voice broke the silence and Celegorm turned to meet his gaze.

“I knew he is very special, graced with a long life. He hath been at my side for several hundred years…” Celegorm answered, perplexed. “But I never thought about how old he may have been when Oromë gave him to me. Though he was fully grown, he was wild and boisterous, as if he was only just past whelp age. I thought him still young.”

“He obviously preserved this youthful streak of his through all those years. I genuinely hope he will never change.” Beleg smiled fondly at the large hound before he turned back to Celegorm, whose stormy eyes gleamed with outright curiosity.

“Wilt thou tell me more?” Celegorm inquired, then frowned, his voice taking on a sharp undertone. “Or wilt thou continue to cloak thyself in secrecy and add another unanswered question to the many I already have?”

“Peace, Celegorm! I promised to answer all thy questions and I will keep my word,” Beleg replied calmly, shaking his head at the Noldo’s volatile temper. “Give an ancient soul a few moments to recollect and sort out his memories. My mind has to travel back to a time long past and not all memories of those years will be as pleasant as those of Huan.”

Beleg fell silent, his face growing distant as he remembered; his gaze focusing inward. Celegorm waited patiently, despite his growing curiosity. The Sinda’s words had unsettled him, yet had also strangely touched him. When Beleg told him he had known Huan thousands of years ago, Celegorm had failed to comprehend that not only his hound, but Beleg as well, had to be ancient; the revelation making him see Beleg in an entirely different light. He used the time Beleg was lost in thought to study the elf’s face more closely, now clearly seeing the traces of time etched into his features beneath the normally ageless appearance of the elves. There were no _physical_ signs of age…they were more shadows of remembrance; pain and sorrow, which were now bared in Beleg’s unguarded expression.

Shadows of the past, Celegorm knew; time had not passed without affecting him, either. He had never felt the weight of time in Valinor, but since he had come to Middle-earth it tore at his soul, as it did at his brethren’s. As different as they were, as different were their ways of dealing with the weight on their souls, his was to withdraw to the forests; yearning for their soothing embrace and for the hunt which allowed him to temporarily leave behind all that troubled him. That wandering had led him to Beleg, whose presence was annoying, confusing and yet comforting at the same time; an elf shrouded in mystery. Yet Celegorm had the distinct feeling _something else_ tied him to Beleg; something that went deeper than their shared love of hunting.

There had been something _more_ in the savagery of their coupling, a subliminal sensation Celegorm had almost missed while driven by his anger-fuelled frenzy. A deep longing in Beleg’s eyes transcended the eagerness of the elf’s body, a longing that seemed strangely familiar…

“I suppose it will not serve to sate thy curiosity when I tell thee Huan was with Oromë when he came to Cuiviénen?” Beleg’s voice jolted Celegorm out of his musings, his teasing tone failing to mask the grief in the depth of his eyes and the shadow that seemed to weigh on his soul.

Oromë. The mention of his former mentor made Celegorm’s heart constrict painfully in his chest. For a moment his mind was drawn back to a time when his life had still been without shadow, when his greatest trouble had been how to best steal away from his duties to roam Oromë’s forest and how to get rid of his siblings so he could spend time _alone_ with his mentor. He felt Beleg’s gaze lingering on him and turned, meeting eyes that gazed back knowingly.

“I knew Oromë well, he hath been my mentor just as he hath been thine,” Beleg answered Celegorm’s unspoken question. “He shaped a part of who we are; in thy case, certainly the only likable part.” Celegorm was about to retort, but Beleg stilled him with a raised hand before he could speak. “Even if I had not already known he tutored thee in Aman, I would have recognized his hand in thy manner; it speaks as clearly from thy hunting rituals as a signature.”

“So this is why thou didst spy on me. One former student observing another, comparing similarities and differences, strengths and weaknesses.” Celegorm shook his head, casting Beleg a sour glance. “To finally measure skills in form of thy deceptive game of hide and seek.” Deep in Celegorm’s heart a dark feeling stirred; anger slowly seething and quickening his temper.

“Is this _still_ eating at thee? I did not observe thee to gain an advantage over thee…I was uncertain,” Beleg exclaimed, groping for the right words. “It was good to see thou dost honor the rituals Oromë values so much, and hast not abandoned what he taught thee. Despite knowing he hath been thy mentor, I sincerely had not expected this of…”

“A kinslayer?” Celegorm snarled, rising to his feet.

“This is not what I was going to say,” Beleg shot back, finally losing his patience with the quick-tempered, unpredictable son of Fëanor. “ _A golodh!_ For _my_ kin, who hath dwelled in the woodland ever since the time of Cuiviénen, it comes naturally to be in accordance with it. It is something rooted within us, a deep understanding that is rare to find to such an extent it in one of _thy_ kin. Who thou art made my decision to seek thee out indeed more difficult, _yet I chose to put all animosities aside_.”

“How gracious of thee, Sinda! What would thy fellows say, if they knew?” Celegorm hissed, crouching beside Beleg, their faces a mere handspan apart. He slowly let his hand trail up the inside of Beleg’s thigh while observing him from narrowed eyes. Beleg remained silent and unmoving, his expression hard and defiant; yet Celegorm felt the quickening breath on his skin as his hand wandered, the slight shudder and hardening bulge beneath the leather when it reached Beleg’s crotch and the betraying flush of shame that spoke more than words.

“I ought to feel honoured then,” Celegorm purred darkly. “But know this, Beleg. I did not _ask_ for thy company, nor do I care for it.” Rising to his feet again, Celegorm gripped his weapons and the fishing rod and strode off without sparing Beleg another glance. Huan, who had observed the whole scene from a safe distance, seemed torn whether he should follow his master, pacing nervously, though a sharp whistle from Celegorm called him to his side and he obeyed.

 

*~*~*

 

Huan curled up on the grass a few paces from his master and observed him, though made no move to come closer, obviously wary of his foul mood. Celegorm had found another place further along the lake to cast his fishing line and now gazed across the water, brooding while he waited for his quarry to bite. The net for the catch had remained with Beleg, so he absently wove a makeshift net of the reed which grew abundantly along the edge of the lake, then put it aside. The first fish bit, a char, and Celegorm pulled it out in silence, stored it in the net he’d hung from a branch, then put fresh bait on the hook and cast his line anew before he resumed staring at nothing.

As motionless as he would appear to an observer, inside Celegorm’s mind a thunderstorm raged. He tried to fathom what had prompted his last burst of temper, what had caused him to lash out at Beleg again, though he was not quite certain. He had acted impulsively, without thinking. Yes, it still ate at him that Beleg had lured him into his little game, but this had not been the reason for his renewed anger at the elf, though he remained rather angry with himself for blindly falling prey. His anger had risen from deep within his heart before he was truly aware of it and had then exploded; overwhelming him ere he even had a chance to control it… The next fish bit, another char, and he put it in the net with the first, prepared his fishing rod again and continued pondering while he waited.

He had shattered the fragile measure of peace and understanding they had shared just as Beleg had started to open up to him, yet Celegorm still could not figure out why he had behaved so harshly. Yes, he still felt slightly tense in Beleg’s presence, though he had done his best to mask it with the cool arrogance that had become his second skin; covering the occasional hint of insecurity he felt. It did not befit a son of Fëanor to be unsure of himself, even slightly. His father had taught him this lesson the hard way when he had still been a youth. At the back of his mind, Celegorm had both anticipated and dreaded the moment when Beleg would inevitably address the subject of the kinslaying. Yet not Beleg but he himself had finally turned their conversation there.

Celegorm knew he had been unjust in accusing Beleg, questioning his motives and mocking his goodwill for not allowing the deeds of the past to influence their…their _what?_ They were not friends, though the things they had in common tied them in a loose companionship. Beleg intrigued him; and as confusing and unsettling as the Sinda’s presence was, Celegorm felt comfortable around him. Well, he _had_ until Beleg had…The rapid twitching of the float on the water drew Celegorm’s attention and he snatched up the rod just before it came loose from where he had stuck it in the ground. Celegorm had a struggle, this time his catch wasn’t secured so easily and kept tugging violently at the hook to break free. He finally managed to haul it in and eyed the large, flopping trout with a hint of a smile…it was indeed good fishing ground; Beleg had been right.

His catch was enough to feed himself and Huan for the evening, yet a glance at his hound, who hungrily eyed the wriggly spoil, told him there would be nothing left over for the morrow. Thus he opted for fishing a little longer, despite his reluctance. Fishing had sounded like a good idea when Beleg had suggested it, though then it had promised to be shared hours of friendly chatter and not those of lone, enforced idleness that allowed him too much time to mull over his own stupidity. Standing at the edge of the lake, Celegorm tried to get a glimpse of Beleg, but low hanging branches and thick bushes shielded the Sinda from his view.

What had ridden him to push Beleg away so vehemently and to cause their tentative companionship to fall apart? Celegorm was rather sure he knew _when_ it had happened…his mood had changed the moment Beleg mentioned Oromë; from there it had quickly disintegrated into seething anger. He had not expected Beleg to know his former mentor personally, much less find that he had been tutored by him as well. Again, the dark sensation from before crept over Celegorm’s heart causing him to grit his teeth and clench his fists, for now he recognized the feeling for what it was… _jealousy_. With Beleg, this shared circumstance had stirred the wish to reach out and get to know him better, in Celegorm it prompted the contrary, he had instantly hardened his heart against the Sinda.

Celegorm had always felt special because Oromë chose to take _him_ under his wing, even though there had been more promising and talented young huntsmen. He had still been a youth and admittedly quite a nuisance; one who regularly tested his mentor’s patience, yet Oromë had put up with him. Celegorm knew it was the first time his father had truly been proud of him, and even though Fëanor never said a word, the gleam in his eyes when he looked at his son spoke clearly his pride in him, a thing which had made it even more special for Celegorm. Unlike Curufin, he had failed to excel in smith craft; was no praised musician like Maglor, and compared to Maedhros his skill in politics and statesmanship was small, but there had been no better hunter throughout Valinor than him.

He was Oromë’s sole student in Valinor. There had been none before him, yet the possibility of Oromë having taught others before the elves came to dwell in Valinor had never occurred to him. It stung his heart like a poisonous thorn, exuding the venom of jealousy that now flowed through his blood as hot rage. Oromë was _his_ , he did not wish to share him! Celegorm knew well this thought was ridiculous; he’d no way of knowing if his former mentor had taken another elf as his apprentice after he had chosen to live in exile. It was a bitter thought; though the fact that it was unlikely that he would ever meet Oromë’s next student made it easier to deceive oneself. But Beleg was real, he was the living proof that Celegorm was not as special as he had made himself believe in his youth; and Celegorm hated him for it.

Kicking a random stone, Celegorm sent it flying into the forest and growled angrily when vivid images surfaced before his mind’s eye and spurred his jealousy to a whole new level. Just at that moment, the float started to twitch again and Celegorm impatiently ripped at the line until his catch, another large trout, lay at his feet. He then picked it up and furiously flung it to the ground again where the fish’s movement ceased after a few more weak twitches. Huan leaped up with a startled howl and nervously paced with his tail tucked between his legs, slinking further back when Celegorm looked at him. Celegorm shook his head, shocked by his own violent outburst, never before had Huan been afraid of him and it hurt him deeply to see his friend shying away from him.

Slowly Celegorm walked over to the hound, sank down on his knees beside him and gently started to ruffle his fur. He took comfort in the familiar warmth of the large hound when he pressed against him, the weight of the furry head where it rested it on his leg. The scenes he had imagined caused him to feel hot white anger as all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen in place. He had subliminally felt it before, but had not been able to put the scattered clues together: the familiarity of the wild pursuit, Beleg’s longing and the strange intimacy he had sensed during their coupling which followed, the knowing expression in the Sinda’s eyes when he observed his reaction to Oromë’s name and the flicker of pain in them before, when he had spoken it.

This was not about one former student meeting another; it went far deeper. His jealousy was not truly rooted in the shattering of his dream of being special he had held as an immature youth. No, it was the jealousy a mature and rather possessive Fëanorion felt when suddenly meeting another former lover of Oromë face to face. Beleg had said nothing to confirm this suspicion, but Celegorm’s instincts told him it was true. Did Beleg know he had been Oromë’s lover? They had kept it secret, he had never told a soul, not even Curufin. Curufin, who was closest to him of all his brethren, though Celegorm was rather certain he had eventually guessed, yet never once had his brother made comment. Celegorm was sure Beleg knew, most likely the Sinda simply figured it out just as he had, but despite that suspicion, seemed unruffled by the knowledge.

Did Beleg not feel any jealousy toward him? Here he was, seething with anger because of a lover Oromë had known before he had even been born, but Celegorm had been his lover after Beleg. Did the Sinda not care? Maybe what had been between Beleg and Oromë had not been a matter of the heart, as it had been betwixt himself and his mentor; maybe it had merely been physical. Yet Celegorm’s instinct and the desperate longing he had seen in Beleg’s eyes silently spoke the truth of the matter. Anyway, why had Beleg been so accepting, even eager when they had lain with each other? Ought he not at least feel some kind of rivalry?

Celegorm’s head was swimming, anger blurred with confusion and the ever-present pain of loss now awakened to a new intensity. He needed to confront Beleg. He needed answers and this time he would not allow the Sinda to talk his way around it, he would come straight to the point. Coming to his feet, Celegorm stored his last catch in the net with the rest of the fish and retrieved his weapons. He did not bother with the rod, yet he quickly removed the string and hook, storing them in his pocket before he left in search of Beleg.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


End file.
